A few choice words can change the way a person feels. They can drive someone into the depths of despair. And they can stir up the will to live. That is what the counselors at the Tokyo Suicide Prevention Center in Shinjuku have learned through trial and error.
During the rainy season, the center's main pillar, Akira Nishihara, 79, who is suffering from late-stage colon cancer, appeared to be a little discouraged.
His urine was flecked with blood, and his dull aches had begun. "Has my time come?" he asked himself as he rubbed his abdomen with his hand, and tilted his head.
"I don't want the center's operations to be impeded. If I can no longer move around, I'll just go to a hospice," he said.
"You don't have much time left, so I'll look after you at home," said his wife, Yukiko, 74. In early summer, Akira Nishihara was paid a visit by Dr. Yoichi Nakamura, 53, who has been making house calls for a long time. Dr. Nakamura gives support to patients who have been forced by disease to confront their mortality, and had been introduced to Nishihara by a friend of mine.
"What do you want to do?" asked the doctor with a beaming smile.
He was asking Nishihara not how he wanted to die, but rather how he wanted to live. Dr. Nakamura's question is the same one that Nishihara throws at those who call into his center seeking help.
"There are two suicide prevention seminars. I want to go abroad. There is also the training of volunteers, and I want to answer the phone as much as possible," replied Nishihara.
"Then let's do them all," said Dr. Nakamura.
In mid-October, Nishihara participated in a seminar-camp held in Osaka. At the end of October, he headed to Thailand to attend a workshop organized by an international organization to which his center belongs. He was able to fulfill his dream of exchanging greetings one last time with his comrades who had gathered from around the world.
In November, he flew to Britain together with his wife. He attended a mourning service to give thanks to his mentor who had begun a telephone hotline to prevent suicides more than a half century ago. His mentor, who died last year, had come to Japan when the couple founded their center, and taught them how words can change the way people feel.
While Akira Nishihara was being pushed around the streets of London in his wheelchair by his wife Yukiko, I was passing through maple trees on the way to a hot spring with a group from Dr. Nakamura's clinic. This year's trip was the 17th organized by the clinic.
Men and women suffering from various illnesses came on the trip attended by their family members and volunteers. The oldest member of our party was 103. While some patients had no hope of recovery, all were full of life.
In December, Nishihara was writing the sermon that he plans to deliver at his Christmas worship service, drawing on stories of death and resurrection from the Bible.
"This is really neat. I guess words really do move the heart," said Nishihara.
Arriving at this point in his life, Nishihara has reaffirmed his belief that there are many ways to change people's minds. "That is what allows us to continue to provide telephone counseling," said Nishihara. (By Shinya Hagio, Tokyo City News Department)
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